


Saints

by ArvaAce



Series: Vitam Voce [3]
Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic)
Genre: I tried something with the beginnings of the paragraphs, Lore - Freeform, Other, POV Third Person, Religion/Cultish Vibes, did it work?, kind of, since this is fanfic after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArvaAce/pseuds/ArvaAce
Summary: Hey here I am again, idk what this is supposed to be but I wrote it and it happened, I guess.Hope you like it, somehow!If you want, chat with me on Twitter @ArvaAce !
Relationships: None
Series: Vitam Voce [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862677
Kudos: 6





	Saints

The People say there are four Saints at Elsewhere, one for each court of the Gentry. Are they human?

They will tell you they are. And maybe they're right. Salt does not ward them off, iron does not burn them, and yet they can walk among the Gentry as though they are part of it, talk in silvered tongues while preaching a righteous cause. They had names once, just like any other student. They are long forgotten.

The faculty knows of them, knows they were students, but no matter how hard they try, they cannot find the records, cannot prove what they know at their very cores, knowledge so intimate it seems almost as though they were born knowing it.

There is a trinity to the Saints teachings, three pillars that they have bound themselves to, as Prometheus was bound to his boulder, chains unbreakable and static.

The Saints will protect you where you are, should you seek them out.

The Saints will not take you, neither from the Here to the Else nor the other way around.

The Saints will not change. They are agents of continuity, a perpetual cornerstone within the tides of a changing world.

They have followers, both fellow students and Gentry, and those between. Sometimes, students may hear their gatherings on the meadow just a little down the hill, toward the forest but not within, the perfect middle ground for all to gather. They do not lead them as a preacher would, but they do talk to their people, their choir of voices. About their day, about their life, their philosophies. Yet, noone who has talked with the Saints could ever tell you exactly what they believe, only that it is righteous.

There is one day, once a year, when all the Saints find each other and they walk into the forest, toward the river. Many tried to follow them, for who could resist such a saccharine secret. Many failed. One, however, once, did not. This one had burns of silver on their hands, this one was smart and knew where to look and where to look away so the Gentry would not notice their sight. This one was bold, going into the woods without salt or iron, only with the belief that they would find their way back. This one came back, before the Saints but after the sun had set, with light in their eyes and fear in their heart, having seen what was not to be known. This one holed up in the library soon after that, filled many notebooks with strange writing, almost unreadable but prophetic to those who could read it, and vanished. Noone knows what happened to them in the end, and noone wants to ask the Saints for fear that they might be the next ones to see whatever drove the light-eyed one to near-madness.

Tomorrow the Saints will meet their congregation again, to ask those gathered there about their days, their lives, their philosophies. The wheels of time turn, the gears slotting together to make the machine of life around them, seperated from the Saints themselves, and they will stay the same. Someone in the congregation may mention the light-eyed ones writings, and they will not return to the Saints again, doubt planted within their mind. Once again part of life.

The day after that, they will walk into the woods. Another fool has decided to follow them, see what the light-eyed one saw, deluding themselves with the idea that they are smarter, braver, quicker to look away from whatever drove the light-eyed one to their rambling prophecies.

Will that be you?


End file.
